Sir Has A Gun
by TheMollyBee
Summary: Clint Barton is not in denial, despite what the counsellers may say. Coulson is not dead. Clint just doesn't expect him to be giving Loki detentions. Fix-it. Rated M for language and yadda yadda.
1. Chapter 1

"Phil would never carry those cards around. They wouldn't have been in his pocket. They could get scuffed or folded, and they would not be out in a time like this. He was a professional, Fury. You're just a liar."

Fury looked up at the ceiling of his office.

"Nice of you to drop in, Barton. Now get the hell out of my office."

Clint dropped to the floor with an unnatural amount of grace. He had his bow out ready, and made a dramatic play of reaching for an arrow to get Fury to talk.

"Barton! I do not appreciate your threats. Consider this your final warning before I send you off on the most boring and longest mission of your life." Fury appeared unfazed.

Clint was not swayed. He stared unblinking at Fury, before slowly beginning to walk towards him.

"I know Coulson is still alive. You tell me where he is, or I tell everyone exactly how you lost your eye."

"Agent Phil Coulson is dead. If you keep talking this way, you'll be joining him."

"Gladly. I know he's alive. Where have you put him? Where the fuck is he?"

"You really think threatening me will do anything other than get you killed? There is nothing for you to prove."

"There is everything for me to prove! He was, and_ is_, goddammit, the best handler you've got. Without him, I have nothing but this fuckin' bow, and he fuckin' designed it. And you're just here pretending he never even existed, when he still does somewhere. I'd bet my life on it that you're just lying to us."

"Barton, you are hereby on temporary leave. In two weeks, you will head to England. You'll get your mission upon arrival."

Clint walked out angrily. He clenched his fists round his bow, considering snapping it in half as he walked out of the building and all the way back to the Avengers tower.

Fury ran a hand over his face, sighing. An angry marksman with impeccable sight and hearing was not someone Fury wanted to be going rogue.

"Clint Barton ("Hawkeye") has been added into Operation: S Suit to prevent danger to himself and/or others in his grief. The Avengers are not to be informed. Barton will be on location at 1300 hours on the 18th."

He hit 'send' on the email, and ground his teeth together.

In his defence, Coulson had requested to be sent elsewhere, and for the Avengers to be told that he'd died. It was just a coincidence that word from Asgard was that Loki had been made mortal and sent to England. Pure coincidence. Nothing at all to do with the fact that Coulson wanted revenge for being stabbed, and for Barton having his mind played with, and for Natasha being scared out of her mind by The Hulk, who would never have been awoken if not for Loki.

* * *

"Hey, Tasha, where's Barton?" Bruce asked, walking in. He'd not seen Hawkeye in a couple of days, and was preparing for him to jump out of a cupboard any moment.

"Fury's sent him on some kind of peaceful retreat, so probably on the front line of a major war by that guy's standards." Bruce visibly relaxed, a small frown then beginning to cross his face.

"Um, okay. You said that quite casually, are you not kinda concerned?" He sat down tentatively next to her on the couch.

"Barton's a big boy. He needs to get out for a bit. He's been going kinda stir-crazy, he blames himself for Coulson's death, y'know."

It was a rhetorical question. Bruce just nodded and let them fall into what he hoped was comfortable silence.

* * *

"Luke Johnson, you're not paying any attention, are you? I thought not. Your prize is getting to write me two essays on any of the topics we've covered today. Now wake up."

Loki sighed. This teacher seemed to have a grudge against him, and he could not, for the life of him, figure out why. There's no way he recognised him, this mortal body was far different to his normal frame: he was shorter, his jawline less pronounced, his eyes a duller hue, his hair shorter and lightly curled, and he had freckles.

"Sorry, Mr Hart." He shot him a flirty grin, which was returned with a frown and a narrowing of eyes.

"Four essays, Johnson. Class dismissed."

His pupils swiftly left and he sat on the edge of his desk with a sigh. It was difficult to not shoot Loki in the face, the gun in his pocket getting more and more tempting every time the slimy supposed-kid opened his mouth. But he was there to observe. He would just have to get revenge for whatever happened to Barton (he couldn't ask, he couldn't find out, not if he got the answer he didn't want) and everything that went down on the Helicarrier in the form of a heavier workload for the newly mortal bastard.

* * *

**I fell and started a new story. Whoops!**

**I will finish all the others, eventually, but hey, new one, yaaaaay!**

**It's pretty suckish but I have pheels and free time.**

**Holla?**


	2. Chapter 2

"Why the heck am I going undercover at a freaking _school_?"

"It's a community college, Barton. Pay attention." Fury barked, whacking Clint's head with the folder containing the mission outline.

"We have received word from Asgard that Loki is now mortal as his punishment for the actions he took here. What Odin was thinking sending him back to the planet he murdered innocent people on, I have no idea." Clint growled and snatched the folder from Fury's outstretched hand, practically seething at the mention of Loki's name.

"We fear he may get too complacent, so we're sending you in to scare him into behaving. He'll recognise you, if all goes to plan, but he won't expose you as he can't expose himself."

"He's already fucking exposed me. I'm like a raw nerve ending in his books. I'm as exposed as it is humanly possible to be, thanks to that motherfucking _ALIEN_!" Clint was raising his voice, attracting stares from the other people in the small airport café. God Fury looked out of place.

"And this, Agent, can be your revenge. You start tomorrow, so you have today to move in. Just don't hurt the fucker. I have enough to deal with without getting Thor and the All-Father on my tail, kapeesh?" Leaving Clint no time to answer, Fury thrust a bag across the table and left.

Clint and sighed and reached over for the bag, picking it up and recognising the weight as his usual mission requests: a full quiver, collapsible bow, and several tightly folded changes of clothes. He swallowed the last mouthful of his lukewarm coffee and went to check in for his flight, grumbling to himself.

"Why couldn't I have gone on one of Stark's jets or something?"

"Because you're undercover. None of the other kids are gonna arrive in private jets."

Clint almost smiled at the familiar voice in his ear.

"Natasha, nice of you to grace my comm."

"Shut up. Be undercover. You're gonna look like a psycho talking to yourself like that."

"You talk to yourself all the time… Okay, I see your point."

"Good luck, Hawkeye."

* * *

Phil Coulson was sick. Somehow he had managed to go his entire life without catching this, what he assumed was the flu. He wouldn't put it past SHIELD to have given all employees secret vaccinations somehow.

However, he was undercover now, and not at SHIELD, and he was sick. So sick that Phil Coulson was having to call in and take a day off work.

He would have blamed it on "Luke Johnson", except he no longer had any kind of magic. Hopefully.

He just hoped this damned mission was going to finish soon. He just wanted to go back and take up Stark's offer of a room which was more of an entire floor in his monstrosity of a home. He just watched to watch the Avengers bitch like they did on all the talk shows they'd had to do, for good press or something. He just wanted to wear a suit and yell at Barton for shooting without looking and watch defeated Norse gods try to pick up ridiculously heavy hammers and not freeze to death in an outer suburb of London, because my god did it ever stop raining it England?

However, he was not that lucky, so for now he would just sniffle and scroll through the "Avengers" tag on Tumblr, hoping that they were doing okay. Hoping that they missed him, but not too much. Hoping that they'd forgive his deceit when he returned. Hoping that Stark would see the amount of fanfiction and ask out Steve or Bruce or whoever the fuck he felt like asking.

God, he wanted to be there.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint walked into his first class of his first day, scanning the class for any potential magical creeps. He'd been given a timetable that was identical to some kid called Luke Johnson, as that was the alias Loki was supposedly going by, which is why he found himself in this bullshit creative writing seminar or whatever the hell it was.

Clint made his way to a free seat at the back of the class, right behind a kid with kind of ginger brown hair and quite pronounced cheekbones. Clint smirked at the way the kid's eyes bugged out when he saw him. Bingo.

* * *

Phil was asleep. Well, he was attempting to be, but his phone kept sounding, before it gave in and answered itself. Phil screamed into the pillow.

"What the fuck do you want, Stark?"

"Hey, that's no way to talk to someone you're still trying to convince to keep your secret!"

"My apologies, best buddy, how may I help you today?" Coulson deadpanned, running a hand over his face in frustration.

"That's more like it! Anyhoo, I'm at your school because there's a science thing apparently and what more reason did I need to come at visit you?"

"Firstly, when will you understand that this mission requires a lot of secrecy, something you're really not good at, and secondly, I'm not there. I'm sick. Goodbye, Stark."

Phil decided that was as much as his throat could take today. Tony Stark was such a… Ugh, he taught creative writing yet he couldn't even think up a decent word to summarise how much of an ass Stark was. He was definitely sick. If he were the melodramatic kind, he'd say he were dying.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Stark had kept his mouth shut after finding out that Phil was alive. Phil had almost believed it was because Tony knew it would be better for everyone in the long run, right up until Tony started blackmailing him for dirt on Captain America.

Phil lied, of course. The worst thing he told Tony was that good ol' Cap once killed an ant under a magnifying glass. When that had got boring, and no gossip was divulged about the rest of his fellow Avengers, Tony had taken to calling him at stupid o'clock at attempting to give out the Tony Stark equivalent of a prank call.

There was no way Tony was actually at the school. No way, no how.

* * *

Tony was actually at the school. JARVIS helped him track down the right one, unwillingly, however, as the AI would never normally betray Coulson. Tony decided that he would turn up and they could let him be one of the judges for the science fair that was apparently going on later that day. And then he'd track down Coulson's house after a couple of explosions in the chemistry labs.

* * *

"You're Hawkeye."

Clint almost startled at the sudden voice next to him, yanking the earbuds out of his ears as his music had apparently stopped during his little half-nap. It wasn't a full nap, as his eyes stayed open, and that was the rule by nap law, of course.

"I'm Summer. Why are you here and not off in New York defeating bad guys and whatnot?"

The girl seemed genuinely interested, so he quickly judged whether she was a threat before answering.

"Rumours started going around about me and the circus. People didn't like the idea of an illiterate superhero, so I thought, hey, why not go and prove that I'm not fuckin' illiterate by going to school and getting some nice qualifications to show'em?"

"Of course. I have one question though…" She clearly didn't believe him, but Clint motioned for her to continue anyway. "Why are you still here when the guy you are meant to be tailing has already left?"

* * *

**It's been a while, I'm sorry. I've been on a supposed holiday.**

**It's going to be another while. I've not developed a social life, don't panic, I'm just out of the country and dealing with shit.**

**I'm out of the country again until the 23rd, and then my life may potentially be over because I need to get qualifications and can't fall back on being a supposedly illiterate superhero, sadly. I think I'm excused.**

**I'll see you in a little while. If you're desperate enough, I may be able to sneak another chapter over the next week, but only if you show that your want is equal to the effort I'd have to put in. Mwahaha.**

**Thanks for reading so far. Lots more to come.**

**(Also, real life Summer, if you found this, hello)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Tony was bored. He'd not found Coulson, so he really must have been taking the day off sick, and all the science projects were ridiculous attempts at what he considered elementary school stuff. Except, hello, a guy with ridiculously sculpted cheekbones was just running in. Fuck it, guys weren't usually his endgame but it's not like Tony Stark was ever particularly picky, and this guy was a fine bit of "No, I'm totally normal looking except I'm actually kinda stunning but unaware" on legs. Tony's _favourite_ flavour.

* * *

"Luke Johnson" was freaking out as he half-jogged to his next class, chemistry. The project in his bag was getting knocked about as he moved through the corridor, but he was too busy panicking to pay that any real attention.

God, how could he have been so stupid! Why on earth did it take his ex-flying monkey walking through the door for him to realise exactly why he recognised his thankfully absent teacher? The guy had been a spear away, literally.

Bundling into his classroom, Loki settled down at his desk before glancing around at the empty desks. The science fair! It was like he lost his memory as well as his magic. Damn SHIELD, that pathetic little organisation was really playing havoc with his day.

Carting his slightly broken but not irreparable project down to the main hall, Loki tried to blend in as he fixed up his work.

"Hello there, gorgeous. Please tell me your project is actually decent?"

Loki looked up to see the metal man he had thrown out a window winking flirtatiously at him.

Did no one stay dead anymore?

* * *

Phil Coulson was dying. Flu was a bitch, and he ached, and okay he wasn't really dying, but when he was it felt a bit like this, kind of.

Despite the fact that he was dying, Phil was getting up to go and take a long, hot shower and head into work. He'd watched every episode of Supernanny that he could stand, read every rumour about the Avengers that he could bear, caught up on all his marking, and slept as much as any human being could. Being sick was boring as hell.

The niggling feeling in his stomach was probably just him still feeling awful, right?

No. Come on, this is Phil Badass Coulson we're talking about. If he has a gut feeling that shit is about to go down, it damn well will.

Shit was going down.

* * *

Clint was sprinting down the maze of corridors (air ducts were fine but hell schools were hard to navigate from the ground) in search of Loki whilst internally debating calling SHIELD in to check on that girl. Was she just intuitive or was she the actual Loki and intel had got confused and blamed it on "Luke Johnson"? Anyway, he'd lost them both, and there was a really familiar flash car out the front and dammit if Tony Stark was going to stop him getting some painfully slow, sweet revenge.

* * *

**I'm sorry for the wait. I've had a load of college stuff to do, and I start officially in a couple of days, so there may be another gap before the next chapter. Anyhoo, skipping over excuses and apologies, here you go. I slipped and accidentally FrostIron'd but I don't even care.**

**Review and I'll love you forever.**


	5. Chapter 5

Phil Coulson trudged into work wearing the longest, fluffiest scarf he owned, which unfortunately happened to be obnoxiously rainbow coloured. Huffing, he wrapped the garish garment tighter around his neck to secure some more warmth and walked through the annoyingly full corridor. Sure, he shouldn't be at work if he was suffering from the chills, but he shouldn't be at home if there was work to do.

Coughing, he let himself into his surprisingly quiet classroom, shuffling over to his desk, where he put his head down and promptly napped… For all of ten seconds. He then shot up, suddenly recalling the events of two and a half minutes ago.

Clint Barton was in the corridor.

Clint MOTHERFUCKING BARTON was in the corridor.

On a weirder note, HAWKEYE had been in the corridor, and not recognised him.

Or he didn't care.

Oh.

Well that was not at all how he had planned for things to go.

Clint was meant to miss him a bit (not too much, he wasn't an egotistical dick that demanded attention, but yeah, a bit, so it was obvious he cared) and then Coulson would miraculously return, earn Clint's forgiveness and then eventually after six months to four years, ask him out for dinner and see how things went.

But it seemed Clint didn't care.

Phil decided he should have just stayed at home.

If you ask him, he will blame the fact that he sniffed just then on his cold. It wasn't because of his cold.

* * *

Clint Barton was freaking out. Somehow the amazing Hawkeye had managed to completely lose track of a Norse god. The man with the best vision in, y'know, the whole _world_ had lost someone who once attempted to take over the world in a school.

Scanning another corridor, Clint brushed past a guy wearing a really terrible scarf and didn't even stop to mentally document the atrocity. He poked his head round a door, and found himself in what he supposed was the main school building.

Aha.

There was Luke Johnson. Loki. Luke. Whatever. And there, right next to him, was… Oh shit.

There was the world's most obvious man. So the car hadn't been a coincidence. Tony was really here.

* * *

Tony Stark was currently running his finger along a slightly scared and very confused ex-Norse god's jaw. Said Norse god was flustered (part of his act, he'll assure you) and still attempting to explain his project to Tony. Not that he really wanted to win, but yeah, he really wanted to win.

Tony decided to up his game and grabbed hold of Loki's hands as he was trying to gesture.

"Okay, Mr Fantastic Cheekbones, I think you and I both know you've won this little competition by a mile. So calm down, and let's just talk, yeah?"

Loki swallowed harshly. And then agreed. And then allowed himself to be led out of the hall to Tony's "Top of the range, flashy as hell but in a stylish way" car. Hell, it'd been a long time, and with this body he had the hormones of a nineteen year old, and he was really excused, okay, he was really really allowed to not back away when his supposed enemy leant in and kissed him (softly at first, then all at once) and he was even more allowed to kiss back. Maybe.

* * *

Nick Fury was having a rare quiet moment. All targets were being taken care off. No one was even close to trying to successfully take over the world. Days like this only happened once every five years or so, so he took a rare moment to lie back in his chair, sip coffee that was actually still warm for once, and then check the locations of everyone that may be of some threat to the rest of his day.

And by that, he meant he hacked into JARVIS to find out where the fuck Tony Stark was and exactly what he was up to.

He wished he hadn't bothered.

* * *

**Oh hi. Here's an update. I hope you like.**

**If you read Thirty Percent, I'm sorry, and I'll get an update to you soon.**

**I'm trying really hard to actually stick to one story because I have a bunch of new ideas that I've had to set aside.**

**Frowny face.**

**See you in a couple of weeks. Deadlines are a bitch, sorry.**


	6. Chapter 6

Clint internally groaned, tapping his finger on the comm. in his ear.

"Tasha, Tony's fucking Loki in his car."

"I'm aware." She replied, her voice emotionless to the untrained ear. "Fury looked slightly sick for a moment and then yelled at Woo to keep an eye on them."

"Poor Woo. Fury's totally jealous, y'know. He wants Tony baaaad."

"You are so weird, Clinton. Eyes on Loki"

"Fuck no. I saw something weird, I'm gonna go check it out."

"Are you now?"

"Tasha, a girl here knew that I was observing Loki. I don't think she knew who he was, but something is weird here."

"Ok, let me know what you find. And Clint? Don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done anything stupid?"

"You told the Hulk that green wasn't really his colour last week."

"Yeah, ok, but-"

"You piss me off on a regular basis."

"Point proven. I'll be good."

Clint walked back into the building, shuddering as he walked past Tony's car. The girl was probably nothing, but still, he needed to make sure.

* * *

"So, Mr Johnson, how was that for you?"

Loki snorted "The infamous Tony Stark wants constructive criticism?"

"Hey, how do you reckon I got so good? Aim to please, improve with every go." He rolled his hips to reinforce his point. "Anyway, I do want a god's opinion on my technique."

Loki flinched.

"Oh come on, why does everyone keep thinking I'm an idiot? Seriously, I'm a genius. Coulson thinks I'm stupid enough to blab, you think I'm stupid enough to not know who you are!"

Loki scowled and started pulling his clothes back on.

"I'll admit the new look is different, and I miss the hair, but come on, you threw me out of a window!"

Loki tried to get out of the car. Tony sighed.

"I also can't believe you think I'm stupid enough to let you leave."

* * *

"Mr Hart, I thought you were sick!?"

"Ugh, I am, but… Have you seen Tony Stark around here?"

"Have you got a fever?"

"No, no, yeah…"

"Ok, let's stop using _Robinson Crusoe_ as a pillow and get you to bed. Come on, gimme your keys."

"No, Summer, it's okay, I just need… Did you see another guy, not Stark, but someone else that was new?"

"You mean did I see Hawkeye? Yes, sir, I did. Want me to go find him and Stark for you?"

"Yes please, Summer. Thank you."

"No problem, sir. Just remember you owe me like four cakes when we get out of here."

Coulson smiled weakly.

"Shut up, _Darcy._"

"Oh, no sir, it's Summer now. I'd call you by whatever your real name is, but I'm pretty sure that's a state secret, right?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Oh no, you will so regret telling me once you're your normal badass self again, I think I'll pass."

* * *

Clint was scanning each corridor as he ran past. The girl, Summer or whatever she said her name was, would have to be in a class by now, so his best shot would be to find some vents and search for her by poking his head into every room. Fuck, this building was huge though.

Luckily for everyone, he found her in the 27th room he checked, wearing a rainbow scarf that he recalled seeing earlier, on…

Shit.

He was really going to have to fire himself for this. Hawkeye? Pshhh. More like Batman. Wait, no. BlindAsABatMan. Whatever.

Phil Coulson was alive, and here, and he really couldn't give a crap about anything else.

He dropped down from the ceiling.

"Ah. Hey Hawkeye, I was expecting you sooner."

"Goddammit, Darcy? Really, how blind have I been here? Why the hell are you going by 'Summer'?"

"Official SHIELD agent now, man! I'm your boss! Or, like, not, but yeah!"

"That's great! Now, where's Phil?"

* * *

**Hello! Here's a nice, new chapter for you. Eat up!**

**If you review, I will probably love you until my dying day, so there's that to consider.**

**Here we are, with Clint and Coulson so, so close to meeting up. And Tony's maybe possibly probably kidnapped Loki, for reasons that may or may not become apparent shortly.**

**I write little notes to myself so I know what to include in each chapter. Chapter 5's were**

** "Bird watching."**

**"Stupid Clint (reprise)"**

**"FROSTIROOOOOON."**

**And my personal favourite; "Eye-scar-Argh!" which is my stupid play on 'mascara' but involving Fury being scarred for life... Yeah**

**The ones for this chapter will be at the bottom of next chapter, so keep reading!**

**My English teacher was encouraging us to write more. I don't this is what he meant, but hey ho.  
**

**I'll be back in a week or so. Play nice.  
**


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